to build a home
by Jessica L. Pearson
Summary: if there's anything that makes sense, it's this right here, the way they're living, but it doesn't mean it won't fall apart - [follow up to /silent night will shatter/ and /the times they are a changin'/]
1. Prologue

**to build a home ; r ; 2,160 words ; **

**chapter 1**

**if there's anything that makes sense, it's this right here, the way they're living, but it doesn't mean it won't fall apart**

**a/n: this is a follow up to _silent night will shatter_ and _the times they are a changin'_**

* * *

Harvey wakes up Monday morning feeling like a different man. His life is different, not entirely, but he feels like he's different. It doesn't make as much sense in words as it does in feelings. He has the same job and the same woman in his life as he's had for almost his entire adult life, but everything else has so much more clarity than it used to.

He doesn't think he can explain the feeling in anything but words and he would do so with simplicity and rather dismissively. He's always heard the question _do you feel different?_ like one moment can really change anything but now that it's one that he's experienced, he can say that he was wrong. Although he wouldn't admit it out loud, it is something that he would admit to her.

He hasn't said so yet - hasn't said that he feels different being married to her after they did it, that there was a sense of security that allowed him to feel a bit more okay returning to work than before she said she would. He knows that there are still some winkles to iron out, that a sensible plan still needs to be put into place. This is literally the one thing in his life he's done without entirely thinking it through and every moment he starts to think that maybe it was stupid, he just looks at her and it's all it takes.

But, when he wakes up Monday morning to a cup of coffee from down the street on his nightstand and the realization that he slept through the entire night, he thinks that things might be looking up. He knows everything that has been standing in his way has been him, has been the things in his head. He can't figure out for sure what makes it so different now that he feels different as well.

As last week rolled into this one, many things changed. Thursday they got married and even though he knows it was a little fast, he felt like it was something he needed. Many people might point out that it was a little soon, but he'd argue that no one knows him better and that they've known each other for more years than either of them would admit in certain terms. He thinks that this isn't something that he should have to explain either way.

But when he peels his eyes open at the smell of coffee and the slightest hints of sunshine, he feels panicked when she's nowhere to be seen. The truth of the matter is that he's dealing with a lot and having to retrain himself to just say things to her rather than treating her as though she is a package of fragility. It used to be so natural to him, to just tell her what was on his mind, and it used to be something that he didn't hesitate to do.

He thinks that it's partially because it was never about her (not that he didn't think about her, because he did, it just wasn't in this all consuming manner which it is now) and the other part of him thinks that it's because he doesn't want to take whatever progress has been made and lose it. He doesn't have any reason to fear that he may lose her or lose what they've become other than the fact that she literally woke up to a whole new world laced with a whole new set of feelings. He doesn't feel like the old Harvey. He feels desperate and faced with a need for her unlike one that he could previously admit to.

Recently, the good things have begun to outweigh the bad on the larger scale of things and he knows that if he were to admit to being so cynical that Donna would laugh. It's difficult to spontaneously marry someone who knows him so well but there's part of him that he's struggling with grasping onto after almost losing her. She is the other part of him, his reflection and his consciousness at the same time.

They are developing a rather comforting routine that he only wishes he could have some power over on a rare occasion. That occasion being that when he wakes up not finding himself to be alone in the bed and the sheets relatively cold, but he knows that she would reason that at least he's beginning to sleep throughout the night. (_She does have a point_ - now he's even speaking on her behalf in his head.) He's spent so many years with her and the idea of not having her is absurd, unfathomable, heart-wrenching. Trying to forget that he ever experienced that is the hardest thing that he's ever done.

Donna's doctor appointment on Friday had revealed that she was recovering nicely and should be able to return to work in a month at the soonest. He thinks it will be the month from hell, having to look at her desk and her not be there - having a temp assistant will be difficult, much like the last time when she was fired. Cameron touched too many things and fucked up too much of his and Donna's system. He needs her to micromanage him, needs her to function wholly.

His routine is much like it was before Donna's accident, at least the routine that she's forcing him to recreate. He woke up to a still and quiet condo, a fresh from the dry cleaners suit hanging from a hook over the closet door. It makes sense where the coffee came from because that suit was certainly nowhere to be seen when he went to sleep. His body is exhausted but he's also well rested and the contradictory feeling seems like a mockery, but he takes a shower and gets dressed like is expected of him.

Fully dressed, he goes into the kitchen, draping his coat over the back of the chair, to see her with quite a mess and a little nerve racked at the idea of her cooking. She hasn't cooked much, but the few times she has it's left him reeling in not the best ways. It always floors him at the idea, especially after a week spent with her mother who is phenomenal in the kitchen.

"Hey," he says, eyes taking in her tight jeans and warm looking sweater, "you're cooking?"

She turns at the waist, glancing at him over her shoulder, "good morning to you, too."

"How long have you been up?"

Her fingers tap against a button on the microwave to bring the time foreward, "couple hours."

"You could have stayed in bed with your husband," he points out.

She drops some food on a plate, sprinkling powdered sugar on a piece of toast to make a very appetizing appearance of french toast. She's made a full meal and she slides a plate across the island in front of him with a wink. He grabs the fork off of the counter like she's been waiting for this for the hours she's been awake. He can only imagine what all she's been up to.

"As my husband," she starts and her smile is not lost on him, "you have to go to work so you can take care of me."

"As your boss, you need to get cleared for work," he counters.

"You're so clever," she mutters, "eat your breakfast before you're late for work."

He takes a bite, pleasantly surprised that she seems to have acquired a bit of skill since the last time she cooked, "is this something I should get used to?"

"Doubt it," she replies, "I just wanted everything to be perfect for your first day back."

"You know, going on a vacation would have made today perfect. What do you say? It isn't too late to back out," he suggests.

She laughs, "honey, I commend you for your efforts but if your phone rings one more time I'm going to strangle you and then we'll be on the list of one hundred shortest marriages."

"You're very funny," he deadpans.

She smirks, "I know. Now eat your bacon."

"The whole vows thing made you bossy," he mutters as he lifts a strip of bacon to his mouth.

She leans her elbows against the counter and reaches across to his plate to take some bacon. He narrows his gaze in her direction but doesn't bother saying anything because he knows it'll be a lost cause. Might as well save his breath. He lightly shakes his head as she takes a bite, nothing the way that her lips don't touch the food even in the slightest.

"I was always bossy, babe," she says with a wink, "you just weren't always so compliant."

"The moment you're back to work I'm going to make your life hell," he teases.

She laughs a little, "is that why you want me to return to work so badly?"

'We'll miss having you," he replies, "you're loved and you're feared - you're very important."

"Are you talking about you?"

"No," he replies with a smirk. He pushes the side of his fork into the french toast to cut it, powdered sugar falling onto the plate with a quiet thud. He hears her heel click against the floor and it suddenly dawns on him how tall her boots are. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Have you ever needed permission?"

"Ha ha," he mocks laughs. He swallows his bite and takes a quck drink from the lukewarm coffee, the bite still strong as he glances at the cup to get the name of the place where she got it. He notices it's a place he's never even noticed but it sure does the trick. "This is horrible coffee. Who let you make decisions?"

She rolls her eyes and lightly shakes her head, "nothing would ever get done if you didn't have me around."

"Hey, I do plenty for myself," he insists, "I tied my own knot."

"Yeah, it looks a little," she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from finishing the sentence. She lightly shakes her head to brush off that she'd ever started to say anything and Harvey can't help but be reminded of everything they've been through over the years. There isn't much that she hasn't seen, the sides of him that he's tried to keep from everyone, but she's still here. "It looks fine, babe. No one will notice."

"You noticed."

"What do I not notice?" She counters.

He smirks, "you have a point. I can't do anything to surprise you."

"Oh, you can surprise me," she replies.

He grows really serious, eyebrows furrowing in question, "since when?"

"You have your moments," she admits. They sit in silence for a few moments as he chews his food, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She looks at him and she feels at home, the slow realization that he's probably always felt at home coming over her. "You better go before you're late."

"I'll only be a few minutes late," he says with a shrug.

"Nonsense, get going," she replies with a thumb motion towards the door.

With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet in total resignation. He knows that if they're going to work, he needs to listen to her because she's right. She's been right more times than he's been willing to admit over the years and he's learned that to save his energy then he needs to not fight with her. Besides, if he really loves her and wants to be with her then he'll concede a little bit more noticeably; however, he does appreciate that she doesn't rub it in his face when she's right.

"Fine," he grumbles, although his smile betrays him.

"You go into work smiling like that, Mister Specter, they're going to think you're a push over."

"They'll have another thing comin'," he counters. He tugs his jacket on and offers her a wink. She laughs gently and shakes her head at him. "You gonna be okay without me?"

"I'm going to miss you a great deal, but you have to go away first," she says.

He laughs, "now you're just lying to me."

"I would never," she teases.

"Yeah yeah," he mutters as he disappears down the hall way.

"Hold on," she calls from the kitchen.

She's at his side by the time her voice touches his ears and he's caught in her elegance, her grace just as overwhelming as always. Her fingers slide down the lapels of his jacket like they have many times before, but it feels different. He just lets her, lets her fingers flatten his hair before returning to the lapels of his jacket. Her mouth presses into the corner of his as she pushes herself up on her toes.

Her voice is soft when she says, "knock 'em dead, slugger."


	2. Chapter 1

**okay, so here's the thing, I'm kind of one of those people who gets a lot of ideas and gets overwhelmed because they are excited about them all and that's great and wonderful until they have to write just a little bit at a time to grasp on to the story all together, but oh well**

**ENJOY and please review on your thoughts, feelings, ideas, things you would like to see happen with this story**

**2: here's the thing, I realized that I made a huge mistake and posted the chapter too soon so now here is the fixed and better, in my opinion, version of this chapter**

* * *

Donna Paulsen (Specter) has been living a life that comes with a lot of incessant noise and for the first time in weeks it's just her alone with her thoughts. From the beeping of the machines to the overwhelming echo of every noise that Harvey made within the apartment to the constant ins and outs of her family. She hasn't had the opportunity to just sit and think because every movement is overwhelming, breath taking and she hasn't had to think much without having someone else there to think with her.

Without the noise, she has nothing to distract her from the prospects of recovery or what exactly hasn't recovered. Without the shape of Harvey's mouth betraying his body language, she is no longer able to pretend that there isn't anything else that matters more than the way he has become someone different who loves her with his entire being. Without her mother's voice telling her what she should feel or say to Harvey, almost like there is no filter for her brain.

That being said, the silence isn't necessarily welcomed and it feels a lot like she's stuck inside of a box. Or, even worse, like she's in that cab all over again and she can't find a way out. She hasn't really mentioned the accident and Harvey's tiptoed around it and, admittedly, part of her wonders whether he only feels this strongly about her due to fear - _will it pass?_

Donna isn't entirely sure what to do with herself. She has spent the last decade taking care of Harvey, keeping track of his schedule, fielding his phone calls, anticipating his needs, and ultimately keeping him in line. Yes, the real problem here is that Donna doesn't know how to take care of herself yet she's been presented with many moments that she's being forced to do just that. She's always had the distraction of the job to shield her from the confines of her mind, her time at work being spent in the expanse of unruly hours until she is so exhausted that all she can do is sleep from the moment she gets home - some days she could barely even think about food. But that's her former life.

Her life now will consist of Harvey and...more Harvey. She knows that there are many different side to Harvey and all elements require a different approach, but one area they've never had any particular difficulty in is communication. However, they do seem to be faltering in that particular area at the moment but she suspects it's because there's a lot of things that neither know how to say or particularly share with the other.

Her family have all been very good at pretending for her entire life. They've pretended that the fights didn't matter, that the bad things don't hurt so much, that strength overcomes adversity. She's had what can be considered a picture perfect life in comparison to her new husband and her long time partner, but that doesn't mean that there aren't more things about her life that are what other people could consider to be fucked up. To each their own and every family has their problems. Her own father had a heart attack when she was 13 - Derek was significantly younger at 9 and Debbie was barely 16, thrown into the mother role.

Donna became a bit rebellious for the sake of rebellion and Debbie got sick of dealing with her so fast that she was threatened with boarding school on almost a daily basis. It was only when their father came home from the hospital that Donna finally backed off a bit just because she didn't want to be the cause of round 2. Within two years of daddy's near death experience Donna grew to hate her mother to her very core and love her father in silence. It was just a phase, a phase that Debbie never went through, but one that Donna grew out of during her senior year of high school.

Donna doesn't like to compare her life to that of other people's. She has her reasons for that but mainly it's because she values her parents with her whole heart even though they drive her up the wall. Being the middle sibling, Donna was accustomed to being looked over on occasion but in her adulthood learned to become the peacemaker she failed to be as a teenager. She always had a bit too much guilt for being a bitch, for lack of better term, to her sister but Debbie could be so overbearing at times; plus, Debbie didn't understand her sense of humor in the least.

She doesn't know how to put into words the idea that she is someone's wife (again) and she certainly doesn't have the first clue as to what that entails. The idea is that things between her and Harvey wouldn't change much than they were before aside from the sex, the living arrangements, and the line that they'd drawn between them years ago. (What else would have to change?) Except there's also a little factor that they've both acquired severe issues that neither know how to address just yet.

There are so many things that they have to address since they've merely discussed the feelings right now, and part of her wonders just how long they'll both let this go on without appropaching the whole thing with some normalcy. They haven't really been part of the real world for a few months, since the day of her accident, and she's almost certain that they'll encounter so many more problems now that they are returning back to business as usual. Donna hasn't stopped to think about all of the ways that her and Harvey just aren't compatible and why they never made it to the beginnings of a relationship throughout the years.

She's almost sure that if she sits down and analyzes every aspect of him, of her, of them, that she will come up with some kind of bullshit reason as to why they are quite possibly the dumbest people in the entire universe. That would be saying something considering some of the ignorant people she's encountered. Donna knows that she needs to do something to keep her mind busy or else she will regret every decision she's ever made.

There's an ache in her chest for the first time in months and she wonders if it's his absence; the problem is that she's really loved him all along.

* * *

"Well well well, nice of you to make an appearance," Scottie greets from the couch of his office. He recoils at the sight of her when he knows he should have expected her to accost him first thing in the morning but he'd hoped. In fact, he'd practically forgotten about her presence in the office until he'd walked in and she'd made herself at home. "It's only been what? Three - four weeks?"

"And yet, you're still here," he returns. He drops into his chair and tosses her a glare.

"That's because the last time I saw you, you ran out on me in the middle of dinner and I haven't heard from you since," she reminds him.

He shrugs half-heartedly, "something came up."

"We all know what came up, Harvey. It's old news around here."

"Then why are we having this conversation right now?" He asks, making a face.

"Because you left me hanging," she nearly screams as she jumps to her feet, "you left me sitting there in the restaurant and haven't called me once. You haven't answered any of my calls. You haven't showed up at work. You haven't even been at your apartment in the last week."

"Wait," he says, throwing a hand up as his eyebrows furrow in confusion, "you went to my apartment?"

"Harvey, I-"

"Don't go to my apartment," he interjects forcefully.

"If you had answered my phone calls then I wouldn't have had to," she counters in annoyance.

"Lets get one thing straight," he says pointing a finger at her, "you're not my girlfriend and I don't want our long history to be misconstrued. You don't have an open invitation to just drop by whenever you please."

Her eyebrow pops up on her forehead, "is this about Donna?"

He can't help the laugh that escapes him at the familiarity of the question; "this is about you, Scottie. I don't want you dropping by my apartment without an invitation."

"Does she know?"

"Know what?" He snaps as he shifts his gaze to the many piles of folders on his desk.

"Know how much you love the Yankees," Scottie snaps back in sarcasm. She sighs and he lightly shakes his head in an attempt to deflect whatever emotion she's trying to pass off onto him. He doesn't think she'll understand – there's no possible way that she could. "Does she know that you were seeing me when she got into her accident?"

"It doesn't matter now," he replies with a shrug.

"This is just like you, Harvey. I thought it meant something to you but I should have known all along that I would never have a chance when it came to Donna. I asked her months ago if she loved you and she told me that she didn't, but I guess I was asking the wrong person the love question."

"What are you implying?" He asks.

She laughs curtly, "don't play dumb with me, Harvey. You know what I'm implying. Even with that bitter tone of yours, your lips still grace me with the faintest hints of a smile."

His smile completely disappears from his face, no longer amused by the line of questioning. He isn't on trial and he won't be interrogated about his person life. But he probably does need to show a bit of humility to the person that he just walked out on and didn't have the decency to inform that they were finished with whatever they were from this point forward.

"Look, Scottie," he says after an undocumented amount of silence between them as he pushes himself to his feet, "I'm sorry. I should have called. I should have answered when you called, but leave Donna out of this."

"You love her," she says with a laugh, "I can't believe I'm such an idiot. If you didn't love me, Harvey, then why did you keep me here?"

"I don't have an answer for you," he admits.

She sighs and shakes her head, her heels clicking on the floor as she crosses from the couch to his desk, "did you think it would be fun to toy with me?"

"Scottie, I never meant to hurt you. I wasn't thinking at all. I just felt like," he stops talking and swallows as he shifts his gaze to her, fingers tapping against his desk top, "I felt like I was ceasing to exist. Nothing else mattered anymore - the work didn't matter anymore."

"I always knew you had a soft spot for her. I just didn't realize that you were in love with her."

He slowly turns his gaze from her and resituates himself in the chair, signaling the end of the conversation. He swallows and opens a folder like it has all of the world's secrets in it, refusing to acknowledge Scottie's statement with any kind of affirmation. He knows that she doesn't need it, that if he really says anything that he'll only make it worse. He didn't really mean for her to get hurt in all of this.

"I have a lot of work to do," he says in the softest of tones.

He hears her sigh and retreat out of the room, his eyes barely lifting from the pages to watch her disappear.

* * *

Harvey looks through the door shaped hole in the glass at his temporary assistant, Cameron, sitting at Donna's desk and he feels sick to his stomach. He knows that he shouldn't, that it's all temporary and that she'll be back to work in no time but his constant worry over her has driven him to a point of desperation. He lightly shakes his head as he turns the chair to face the windows, anything to get the reminder that Donna isn't there out of the forefronts of his mind.

But it isn't that easy, as much as he wishes it were.

He can't just remove her from his mind, the dull ache beneath his fingertips making them vibrate until he can't even sit still. He reaches into his pocket for his phone as though on autopilot and finds her name in his phonebook, clicking where it says _new text message_. He swallows as he tries to come up with something to tell her; he settles on something he'd tell her anyway.

_Scottie was in my office when I got here._

The minutes seem to tick away before his phone vibrates in his palm, _I hope you kept your pants on._

He doesn't laugh like he's sure she intended. _Very funny. She has a lot of questions._

_You've got the answers, babe._

He smirks and starts to type out some reply about how he has something for her or some other borderline inappropriate comment when he hears feet shuffle on his carpet behind him. He's startled and tries to steady his nerves before he turns his chair to glance at his intruder. He's silently relieved that isn't Scottie despite the fact that Mike's probably more than prepared to ask about a million questions. He likes to ask a lot of questions.

"Can I ask you a question?" Mike starts.

"You get one question," Harvey replies.

"Did you miss it?"

Harvey purses his lips together and pockets his phone, pushing the reply text back to a later time in the day, "miss what exactly?"

"Working," Mike clarifies.

"I'm here, aren't I?" His voice betrays him and when Mike's eyebrows furrow Harvey knows that the kid knows but won't press any further.

"I'm glad you're back. It's been," Mike hesitates for a moment as he advances further into Harvey's office, "interesting without you."

Harvey's phone vibrates in his pocket and he smirks, "it's probably been relatively boring without me."

"To say the least," he mutters. He takes a seat on Harvey's couch and leans back against the back of it, throwing his arms across it. That's when Harvey notices how disheveled Mike looks. He fights off a yawn and absently scrubs at his face. "You would be so impressed."

"What'd you do?" Harvey asks accusatory.

His phone vibrates in his pocket again and he doesn't ignore it. He reaches in to retrieve it and glances at the message, _If Cameron messes up my filing system again I'll have his head._ Harvey laughs audibly.

"I read through every file on your desk. I was here all night. Ask me anything."

"I'm taking a long lunch," Harvey counters, "utilize this time to take a nap."

"Seriously?"

Harvey pushes himself to his feet and buttons his jacket in the middle, "if anyone asks where you were, just tell them I had you doing something top secret for me."

* * *

_**1988**_

_Her parents are just too fucking strict, like, they need to let her breathe. She's so tired of it - she's so close to skipping classes just to get some time to herself. They never let her do anything no matter what time she asks or how happy they are but **Debbie** always got to do whatever she wanted when she was 16. It just isn't fair._

_Donna thinks she deserves at least one night out to hang out with her friends. Besides, how much trouble could **the drama club** get into on a Friday night anyway? All she wants to do is hang out, talk about this movie everyone saw (EXCEPT HER!), and write a script with her group of friends. It's so unfair - nothing is fair. Who does she have to suck up to so she can get **one** night out with friends?_

_Fuck it (oops?), she's going out whether she gets the okay or not. She doesn't even care anymore. She feels like she's been grounded for a long time and she didn't even do anythiNG. It's ridiculous. Ugh, she can't even put up with their bullshit anymore. God, when did she start cussing so much?_

_Oh well._

_Donna, all of 16 and beginning to fill out much like her sister did, eagerly taps her fingers against the edge of her desk as she glances at her clock for the umpteenth time. It feels like time is dragging on and it's sO annoying. Derek has been snoring in the other room for nearly two hours but she thinks her father's fallen asleep in the chair in front of the tv again. She really doesn't want to give him another heart attack and she doesn't want to get caught sneaking out of the front door by her MOther, who she hates to her very core._

_She kicks at the leg of her desk, handed down from Debbie when she went off to college back at the beginning of the semester, and sighs in annoyance as she flips through another page of **Macbeth**. How many times is she going to be forced to read this in her lifetime? It isn't that she hates it, she really loves **Macbeth**, she just really wishes she could read something else. Her jeans are a little tight and she has on this pair of boots that she swiped from Debbie before she left and she looks sexy, if she does say so herself - Tony won't have an excuse as to why he wouldn't be looking at her tonight._

_Angela should be here any minute in that Pontiac hoopty thing that she calls a car to pick her up and she hasn't even made out it of the front door yet. Donna is so jealous of Angela right now - her parents are NEVeR home on Friday nights and Donna wishes she had the luxury to do whatever she wanted. Why are her parents the way that they arE?_

_She puts her bookmark between the folds of her pages and deposits the book on the corner of her desk, letting the legs of her chair slam to the floor. If the dog barks at that she's going to lose her cool and that mutt will not be sleeping in her room again any time soon. She stills her movements for 3, 4, 5... seconds and listens for any new noises. The air leaves her chest in a rush when she feels like she's in the clear, grabbing the leather jacket John gave her a few months ago off of the back of her chair and pulling it on._

_She looks out of her window just in time to see the embers of a cigarette light up and fall to the ground in the front yard. She smiles at Tony's shadow as her hair curtains her face and she pushes her window open. His teeth shine in the moonlight as she throws her long leg over the window frame._

_"Hey kitten," Tony says._

_She can't mask the way her teeth show from between her lips while she grins, the heels of her boots steady on the shingles of the roof. He perches his cigarette between his lips and holds his arms up to help her off the roof. The drop isn't that bad - 8 maybe 9 feet - no big deal._

_She closes her eyes and drops like she's fearless (hint: she isn't) and she's never been happier to trust another human being before in her life when her feet slam into the ground and he catches her. His fingers touch the side of her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes. He takes the cigarette from his mouth and blows smoke into the air above her head._

_"About time you caught me," she comments teasingly._

_He smirks, "nice pants."_


	3. Chapter 2

**I decided to cut the last part a bit shorter because it was already pretty long. Even though I'm sure that everyone would enjoy what would follow, I felt that it was still enjoyable and far less trite than it could end up being. Besides, I wanted to write the next part more because I feel like it will propel the potential plot forward.**

**Anyway, read and enjoy. Review if you like because it is greatly appreciated. :)**

* * *

She peruses through the records down the street from her apartment building, not even sure what's brought her to this side of town. It's not way out of her way, but it certainly isn't within the vicinity of Harvey's condo either. She guesses that she lives there now too, that she should start calling it _their_ condo despite the fact that it's never been something they've ever really discussed. She supposes maybe that's what's brought her here, that she still has a former life and an apartment that she hasn't really been to in what could arguably stand to be months and she has her own things.

She knows that Harvey is particular (and his bed is far more comfortable than hers, although probably no more tainted with his occasional company than hers would be) and can't figure out how she would even be able to integrate their lives. Where would she even start? Should she move all of her things? Sell her apartment?

It isn't fair for her to say that she will no longer be her own person because it isn't like she hasn't considered them a _we_ for years. Considering that's always been on a professional level and she's thinking of their personal, everything is suddenly hitting her now. She absently wonders if it's too late to be thinking about this because they're already in too deep. They're too far into this.

Is it too late to turn around and run the other way? Too late to forget that she's spent so much time pretending that she wasn't in love with him - too late to pretend that her feelings for him isn't a part of her? Is it too late?

Is she confined to a life with him inside of his glass condo, the walls around them barren and their new life visible for all the world to see? Is she destined to share a life with him, a bed, a bathroom - shared meals every night, surrounded by him from beginning to end? Is this what her entire life has been leading up to?

Her fingers pick at a record, smooth jazz, and she wonders if she'll always smile while listening to songs that remind her of him. It occurs to her that they'll need to go on dates like jazz festivals and midnight showings of movies and Yankees games; the idea that she'll never go to the theatre again making her a bit queasy. Harvey doesn't like the theatre, (or he doesn't appreciate it, rather) and she does not look forward to the probabilities of him mocking the things that she loves. He would never do that; _he would **never** do that_.

She fears that she'll step back inside of her own apartment, inside of her old life, and remember what loving Harvey Reginald Specter from a distance was like and will feel more comfortable loving him that way; she wonders, she fears, she aches for him in a way she always feared she would like she needs his reassurance that he truly does love her. She makes a step towards her apartment, leaving the vintage records behind, when her phone goes off in her purse. The vibration tingles her fingertips and when she digs through her purse to find it, she feels relief because Harvey's timing couldn't be better.

"Hello," she says, the hints of a smile creeping into her voice.

"Hey," he returns sharply, "where are you?"

She hesitates, voice catching in her throat, "I'm at my apartment."

"Oh," he returns, voice revealing his relief - maybe even a devastation.

She expels a breath, admits, "I can't go in."

She hears him swallow on the other side of the line, "I'll be right there."

"You don't need to come here," she replies immediately, "you don't need to leave work on your first day back. I'll come to you."

"I'm at home," he says, like it's the only thing that makes sense, "I can meet you somewhere in between. We can grab lunch."

"There's a bistro by the coffee shop you like, across the street from it, I can meet you there in fifteen," she relents; she wonders if she should even tell him what she's thinking or if it will only make things worse.

* * *

Harvey absently checks his watch, slowly coming to the realization that wearing a watch really doesn't make the situation any easier when waiting impatiently for someone. He's never really had to wait for Donna before. She's unusually prompt and he's never had to question it, not even for a moment, but today she's not exactly where he wants her to be exactly when he isn't expecting it. He taps absently on the face of his watch and decides to head inside to grab a table.

Once he finally gets to the table and has a seat, his leg won't stop bouncing up and down. His nerves won't quit - he's been like this for weeks or months, he isn't quite sure which. He feels so disconnected from everyone, everyone except for Donna, and he wonders if it's always been like this like he's always been disconnected from everyone but her, he just never realized until he was so close to losing her. He wonders if it's just all in his head.

He swallows and looks up, just in time to see her walk through the front door, and he nearly jumps to his feet. His mouth spreads into a gentle smile, encouraging her every step as she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head. She juggles the bags in her hands as he steps forward to catch her by the elbow and presses his lips to the corner of her mouth.

"Hey," he greets, reaching further around her and helping her into her chair like a gentleman; she shrugs her coat off and hangs it on the back of her chair.

He notes the surprise on her face at how at ease he is falling into an intimate pattern in such a public scenario, her muscles tensing beneath his fingertips. He offers her a smile in an attempt to soothe them, his mouth gracing her with a boyish charm that has lacked for years upon years. She finds it almost enough to reassure her that they've done the right thing.

"I got you a record from that place on the street," she tells him as she settles into her seat, "I think you'll like it."

"If anyone knows what I would like, it's you," he replies. He sits back in his seat, his leg bouncing up and done. She notes the creases in his suit, the way he seems a bit disheveled like he's not even comfortable in his own skin. It's been a long time since she's seen him like this and it worries in the pits of her stomach. "Did you see your apartment?"

"Harvey, I-"

"I missed you," he interjects, "that's why I called."

She can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth, "you didn't even make it four hours."

"But I made it three," he replies triumphantly, "besides, after being accosted by Scottie this morning I could use your company."

"What did Scottie say?"

He pauses for a moment and swallows, her eyes boring holes into him as his gaze drops to the table, "did you know I was seeing her?"

"Yes," she admits slowly, "I knew, but it isn't really something that I've thought about much. I should have considered Scottie and her feelings because you've known her for a very long time, but I just couldn't. I was too focused on you."

"And I was focused on you," he adds. He lifts his gaze to hers, relieved that she isn't mad. He's seen her mad before and she isn't any cupcake. He hates when she's angry because it leaves him reeling for days. "You know I don't love her, right?"

"You have a special place for her, Harvey, but I know you've never loved her," she replies, "I think you could have."

"I don't think I ever could have - not really, not the way that someone deserves," Harvey mutters, "I think that part of me knew that I was always going to love you but I just didn't know if I'd ever get the chance to be with you."

"Honey," she replies gently, "was there ever any question?"

"You were pretty insistent that you weren't in love with me," he counters with a smirk.

"We're not doing this just because there was a close call, right?"

"I think," he starts, furrows his eyebrows pensively as he leans towards the middle of the table, "the worst possible thing I could ever imagine is not getting to touch you again."

He watches her relax, the tension in her shoulders literally falling as she presses her elbows against the table, "I love that you stayed by my side, I love you so much for that and I have loved you for longer than I ever allowed myself to admit-"

"Donna," he interrupts forcibly, "you ramble when you're uncertain but I want you to be sure that I love you."

"And we haven't even had a chance to order," she replies with a look of innocence.

He looks on with amusement as she flips open a menu, his mind wandering to a place that makes him question if he's told her enough or not. He hasn't put much thought to what Scottie had said, hasn't considered that maybe she _needs_ to know more because even he doesn't fully understand the way that emotions work. But he does know that admitting he loves someone else more than himself has made it difficult to feel like he's making any mistakes - not anywhere she's concerned.

The waitress comes to their table, takes their order and he finds himself saying that he'll just have what she's having. Donna quirks her eyebrow at Harvey like she's wondering where all of the compliance is coming from, and she wonders if this is what it's going to be like to be with him. Will he always be so simple, so easy? Or will he find his fight again, make living with him the chore that she needs?

"What's wrong?" He asks her.

The smile on her mouth quickly turns to amusement, "nothing's wrong."

"You just have this look on your face," he points out.

"I'm just looking at you."

He shrugs absently as he stretches out beneath the table, "do I look different?"

"I'm just checking you out," she reasons, "if you're my husband, I can do that, right?"

"I'm all yours," he counters instantly.

"Just do me a favor," she adds nonchalantly, "just don't tell anyone until I've had the opportunity to tell Rachel."

"Donna," he says; it cuts through her like glass, "you have to tell her soon because Jessica has to know before you come back to work."

"I know. I'll call her. I've just been enjoying my time with you," she admits.

His smile slowly fades, fingers splaying on the table as the toe of his shoe touches hers, "but now it's back to the real world."

* * *

_**2003**_

Harvey Specter celebrates his 31st birthday in the company of his father, his brother, and his 'executive assistant' with a brief appearance from his boss. It is unconventional but it's the people that Harvey trusts the most, the ones who are loyal to him and he is loyal to. Harvey has never been conventional, he's been safe and smart; oh how Scottie would laugh at him now if she were to see him. She would undoubtedly tease him about his choice of company but he doesn't care because they are a good group of people.

It's mostly been his father, Marcus, Donna, and him anyway. Jessica stopped by his condo briefly to wish him happy birthday and give him a gift, but he hasn't even bothered to open it yet. It's tiring to always be on his game, but with just over 3 years under Jessica's wing he's finally beginning to break loose. She calls him puppy less and less, sometimes refers to him as the **dog on a leash** but he supposes that's a little growth.

Donna, however, has seemed to take over the arrangements for everything from his meeting with clients to arranging his birthday dinner at his condo. She'd arranged for his father to make his way over, saxophone in hand, and he was waiting for Harvey when he got home. Donna showed up with groceries and Marcus' assistance carrying the bags. Harvey wonders just how long she's had this planned - weeks, if not months.

Donna surprises him, the way she cooks dinner for a group of men who are of no relation to her and gives them the opportunity to bond. Harvey has thought about it for a long time, the way she is his best friend and confidant and how she's always there when she needs him no matter the hour. She is the most dependable person he's ever met, aside from his dad, and he often times finds himself turning to her even in moments that he probably shouldn't.

She sticks it out like a trooper, insisting to clean up so that Harvey can continue to chat with his father despite the fact that Marcus left almost 2 hours ago. Harvey glances at her in appreciation, a look that can easily be misconstrued for adoration. Part of him has considered what the blurred lines between them means, the way they are unsure of when is enough and how they've integrated into each others lives. He thinks about it more than he intends to.

"I should get going," Gordon announces.

"I can walk you out," Donna replies from the kitchen.

"No," Harvey says with finality, "you've been running around like a mad woman all day. You have a seat and I'll walk him out."

Harvey's finger motions from her to the couch indicating what he wants from her. After years of their partnership (not many years but it's still a great beginning), she considers tossing him a sassy comment in return but he can see the way her eyebrow furrow as she considers playing nice in the presence of his father. Harvey tosses her a smirk when Gordon isn't looking and she quickly sticks her tongue out at him in return. He lightly shakes his head as he grabs his jacket and follows Gordon to the private elevator in the corner.

As soon as the doors slide shut, Harvey tosses his father a questioning glance; "did she throw this together last minute?"

"She mentioned it a few weeks ago when I called. You were in court," Gordon replies.

"Makes sense," Harvey says as he nods in realization, "you two conspire against me a lot?"

"She cares a lot for you, Harvey," Gordon says, "I know that watching me and your mom was really hard for you but you can't let that keep you fromm living your life. That woman on your couch works hard for you and I think that we both know why she does it - it isn't for the job, Son, it's for you. I see the way you look at her. I've never seen you look at anyone else like that and I don't want to see you miss your chance with her because you hesitated."

"Dad," Harvey replies in annoyance, "can we just have one conversation where Donna isn't the subject?"

"I just want you to be happy, Harvey. Ask yourself what will make you happy and go for it," Gordon says as the elevator comes to a stop in the lobby.

Harvey bids his father good bye and watches him disappear into the night of early spring, the air still cold from the lingering winter. He knows that his father has a point, that Donna gives him something that he probably won't find anywhere else. He thinks about it the whole way back up, but he's disappointed when the doors slide open and she's putting on her coat.

"Don't go," he says gently, "stay. Have a drink with me."

* * *

Harvey takes the elevator, tapping his foot impatiently as though he can make it speed up even though it's gone the same speed for years. The days are getting longer, the balls of his feet heavier as he's no longer flying out of the front door at the office to catch up on the entire load that he missed. He's falling into a new rhythm that is completely off because he doesn't have Donna there to offset the needs he doesn't necessarily voice.

They've always been in perfect sync - even when avoiding conversation topics that they should discuss but know that neither of them can (ironically, they still aren't really having the conversations now despite the situation) and are rather careful not to even accidentally brush passed each other. Even though that may be behind them now, he still thinks something is missing. He's had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind for days and can't quite put his finger on it.

The elevator comes to a stop and he's taken off guard when he doesn't see Donna anywhere in the open floor plan and the apartment feels colder than normal. His mind goes places that he doesn't mean for it to go - could she have left him? Gone back to her apartment and left his to be cold and empty? Is this the life he's destined to live entirely and completely alone?

He considers calling out for her but he doesn't want to seem foolish, doesn't want to make it seem like he would even doubt her for a second in the event that she _is_ there. Instead, he swallows as he shrugs his coat off and drapes it over the back of the chair in the living room. He advances further into the apartment, eyebrows furrowed as curiosity searches the bedroom for her slender frame.

He feels relief when he sees her on the balcony, her feet tucked beneath her in the chair for warmth as her eyes trace the city lights and her fingers spread a book open in her lap. For a moment he considers asking her what she's reading because there isn't anything in the apartment other than his law books, a few biographies, maybe even a few classic fiction pieces of literature closely related to baseball. A sigh escapes his slightly parted lips as the wind catches in her hair and the glow surrounds her. He wants to remember this moment forever, considers taking out his phone and snapping a picture of her like that but she turns her head to look at him before he can. A smile spreads across his mouth as their eyes lock and he takes it as her encouraging him to close the space between them.

"It's freezing out here," he says in way of greeting, "aren't you cold?"

"Only a little," she answers. Her voice sounds small like she's been relaxed for most of the evening. He tilts his head on response, gaze drinking in the way she looks so naturally comfortable in the space that until recently was only his. "I was waiting for you to get home so I was reading this book to pass the time."

Her shrug catches and he sits at the end of the chair where her legs are bent up; he slides his fingers beneath her blanket finds her ankle, "anything interesting?"

"The biography of _Babe Ruth_, kind of boring," she replies with the slightest hints of a grin.

"Excuse me but that is not boring," he exclaims.

"I was so bored that I almost fell asleep," he closes the book, the warmth of his fingers on her cold ankle making her shiver beneath his touch, and places it on the table, "how was your day?"

"Playing catch up is irritating. Don't let me miss that much work again," he answers.

Her fingers find his arm and inch up towards his bicep, "when have you ever done anything that I've told you to do?"

"I listen to you all the time," he says with a scoff. She smirks and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth in return. There's a silence that falls between them as her thumb brushes over his arm for a brief moment before her fingers slide to his tie. His eyes drop to the blanket between them and he swallows, "I missed you today."

She tugs on his tie, leading him towards her as she leans against her thighs, "you say that now, but you'll get tired of me soon enough when I come back to work."

"I'm not tired of you yet," he reminds her.

He follows her lead and meets her in the middle, his lips touching hers. Her fingers wrap around his tie, bunching up the silk material, and he suspects that it's one she hasn't liked for a long time but he decides not to question it. He feels her mouth curve upward beneath his and for a moment he feels lucky that he can still make her smile after all these years. No one else would ever put up with him for even a portion as long as she has.

His fingers slide up her calf, the short hairs on her her legs prickly to his touch yet still not even half as harsh as he's sure the stubble would be, and his palm flattens out against her skin. The kiss is firm and gentle. It surprises him how something so soft can translate into so much, can say so much more than he'd ever imagined anything could.

She lays a hand on his cheek, thumb pressing against his chin. The warmth of her lips on his prompts him to part of them and dart her tongue out over hers. Her mouth is becoming familiar to him in a way that he wants to remember for a long time, in a way that he hopes he will never forget.

His finger hooks in the crook of her knee for just the briefest of moments as her mouth opens beneath his, her tongue sliding out to meet his. She kisses him with ferver, with a longing that makes him wonder how long all of this has been building - it's been a little over a week but she kisses him like her life depends on it. Sometimes he still wonders if he's making it all up in his head.

He lifts his other hand to her wrist, thumb brushing over her pulse point as he seeks out the reminder that this isn't just something he's making up. He admires her with his hands, the way she is so strong and beautiful yet fragile at the same time. There was a time that he'd forgotten she was anything but strong and now every day he thinks about how fragile she is.

The coldness of her skin haunts him, reminds of the moments when her body was too cold for him to touch for longer than a moment and the stillness of her made his chest ache. He pulls his mouth from hers and simultaneously pushes his hand up her thigh. She shivers beneath his touch and he peels his eyes open to see her moving over him.

"Lets get you inside," he mutters gently.

"Harvey," she replies, both hands on his shoulders as she straddles him, "shut up and kiss me."


	4. Chapter 3

**Here is a small update. It's been a busy week with school and stuff but I'm just giving you something to hold onto. I have plans for this and they are coming slowly but surely. Time management is key for me to write more but if you like it, please review so I know it's worth my time amidst the busy semester between school and work. Also, if you have any suggestions, please let me know! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

He hovers in the doorway of the bathroom as she moves around it clad in only a silk bathrobe, his eyes watching her every move like she's as fragile as glass. He doesn't have on much more than she does, just boxers and a plain t-shirt and a look in his eye that makes her feel entirely scrutinized under his gaze. She shivers despite the distance between them, his eyes boring holes in her skin like he's peering at her very soul, and it makes her wonder when he became so exposed in front of her.

She sits on the edge of the bathtub and crosses one leg over the other, slowly lifting her gaze to his. She'd had an agenda when she came into the bathroom but underneath his piercing eyes she can no longer remember what she even went in there for, but his look reveals that there's something that's on the tip of his tongue. For once, she has no idea what he's going to say and the suspense is making her feel anxious.

"What?" She finally asks.

He shakes his head like he's being brought back to the present, shoulder pressed against the door frame like he needs the support. "What?" He parrots, "oh, it's nothing."

"You're watching me like you're waiting for me to break," she says.

He leans his temple against the door frame, "no, I'm just thinking."

She exhales in an attempt to steady herself, "penny for your thoughts then?"

"About how I miss seeing you all day," he admits.

She lightly shakes her head, fingertips sliding over the edge of the bathtub as she seeks for the faucet handle, "is that why you won't stop looking at me?"

"You're just really beautiful," he says gently, "but you've always known that, haven't you?"

"What do you think, Harvey? Do you think I'm still beautiful?"

She gestures to bruises and scars that are still somewhat fresh, that haven't yet began to disappear. She doesn't complain about the pain much, about the sting that pierces her bones or the throb that aches in her wounds, but they are there - a constant reminder. She hides her pain well. She keeps all of her feelings buried and determined that they won't come spilling out.

His mouth curves upwards at the corners, "you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I'm not," she disagrees quietly.

He absently licks his lips, "you are. You don't even believe it but you are. I don't want to stop looking at you."

"Do I look different than I used to?" She questions.

He shakes his head lightly, "you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I just look at you and I feel like things make sense. I have always felt that way."

"What took you so long then?" She teases and promptly tucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I wanted to be able to look at you and think of only you," he replies with a halfhearted shrug.

"What do you think about when you look at me now?"

He stands up straighter, mouth sliding into a grin, "what's with all the questions?"

He watches her nearly fold into herself, arms crossing over her chest as she shrugs. She pulls on the handle and the water rushes from the faucet, emitting water into the tub. She checks the temperature after a few moments while he pushes off of the doorframe and advances further into the room. He kneels down, hands settling on her knees and fingers slipping a little up her thighs, and looks her in the eye.

"I've got an idea," he starts; she lifts her gaze to his and her mouth tugs upwards a little at the corners, "Mike's been asking about you a lot lately so why don't we have him and Rachel over so they can see you?"

She nods slightly, voice sounding smaller than normal, "maybe we could tell them then?"

"And then you'll let me shout it from the roof?" He teases.

He doesn't miss the way her eyes light up as the words leave his mouth.

* * *

Harvey has been trying really hard not to watch her too intently but there's part of him that thoroughly enjoys taking in her form as she makes her every move. He finds it rather difficult and there are even times that he isn't entirely sure that what he's seeing is real. He wishes that things were more obvious, like he had some kind of guarantee that everything he's seeing and feeling is real.

Harvey has been trying to decipher his life over the past few months based off of his feelings, which is something he's never really been too keen on, and he's kind of been a loose cannon lately. Part of him wants to fix it, get back to the version of him who was a powerhouse and didn't walk around so vulnerable all the time, but the other part of him is stuck in this version who is scarcely in love with someone else. He isn't even sure that he could do it differently, that he could possibly take 3 steps back and re-examine his self control or the way his nerves are completely shot.

It's amazing that to him, his nerves are still shot after a month of living with her and functioning with her. He wonders if it's maybe because he loves her so much more than he had ever realized, that years of thinking what it might be like to be with her has finally caught up to him. It didn't happen the way that he had thought it would, it happened in a way that made him so desperately vulnerable that he's still reeling from it.

That's why it's moments like this, when she's actually still sleeping, that he takes every moment that he can to just watch her. He knows that his gaze can be overbearing if not something she's grown accustomed to over the years, but he keeps watching her like he's still trying to convince himself that she's okay. He remembers that way that they used to be but it feels like another life time. He's always told her that he can't be himself without her, that he doesn't want to find out what kind of person he'd end up being without her, but he's always viewed her as an equal. Her opinion is the only opinion that matters.

"Donna," he says barely above a whisper. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to touch her. He can tell by the way that her mouth twitches at the corners that she isn't asleep but she's failing at faking it. He narrows his gaze, "I know you're awake."

She rolls towards him, her hip coming into contact with his. "I know you've been watching me."

"That's different."

"Is it?" She challenges.

He pauses for a moment before he grins, "I didn't know you were awake."

"That makes all the difference then," she quips.

His hand slides over her waist and comes to rest on her hip. He shakes her a little, eyebrow raising as he teases her, "when did you become so lazy?"

"My doctor's appointment isn't until nine," she replies, glancing at the clock, "and it's only seven forty-five. Speaking of which, you're going to be late."

"Shit," he says slowly, "I forgot about that."

"About?" She leads.

He reaches into his pocket in search for his phone, hand shaking as his fingertips brush over the lapel of his gray suit, "the doctor's appointment. Just give me a minute and I'll call my temp to have him reschedule my meeting."

She shakes her head at his choice of calling Cameron a 'temp' instead of using his name, like he's trying to remind her that he wants it to be only temporary. She brings her hand up to his wrist to stop him from proceeding with his phone. She lightly shakes her head, "it's okay, Harvey. You need to stay on point with this client, don't reschedule. I can handle one little doctor's appointment without you."

"Will you let Ray take you?"

She offers him a genuine smile, "I will let Ray take me."

* * *

Donna's incorporating Harvey's nervous habits into her own mannerisms, she's discovered the hard way. There was an incessant bouncing waiting for the doctor to return with the results of whatever tests he'd ran the week before, one that she found to be utterly annoying but she couldn't quite keep from occuring on her own. She wonders if this is a new development or if it's one that she has acquired over the years, only actually happening in his absence.

She checks her phone absently, her mind nearly a million miles away, as she waits:

_Hope you and Harvey are doing well. Call me - Mom_

_Your nephew decided he wants to play baseball in the spring!_ from Debbie

And then Derek, _I hear you have something to tell me._

Just as Donna is in the middle of texting out a reply to her little brother, the door swings open and she panics. She hits the home button on her phone and buries it deep into her purse, cutting herself off from the outside world. She knows that it isn't good news, she knows because she'd rather no news - it's better than bad news.

"Do you come bearing gifts?" Donna ventures hopefully.

Doctor Blakes looks at her apologetically, "I have good news and bad news."

"Give it to me," she replies.

He sits down on the stool a bit closer to the ground than her own chair, and looks up at her. For a moment she wonders if this is how he delivers news because it appears to be less threatening than standing upright. She wonders what kinds of reactions he gets when he delivers bad news, if he's ever been on the receiving end of a death threat because of it. She wonders how Harvey would react if he were here. She thinks that Harvey would probably show his ass end; Harvey really packs a punch when his emotions drive him forward.

"You seem to be doing fine and I want to clear you for work," he starts. Before the smile etches across her lips, he lifts a hand to stop her. He smiles apologetically and she wonders if this is just his normal smile now. "But, I don't want you to overwork yourself. Only twenty-five hours a week. I know your husband works long hours and he's quite accustomed to your assistance but you're still in recovery. Your ribs are healing nicely and you're mostly recovered, but after that touch and go I want to see you take it easy."

She gets hung up on the word _husband_ for awhile and tries to decide how she feels about the way it sounds when it comes out of someone's mouth other than her own. She almost misses the rest of what he says but she barely stays focused. She releases a sigh of relief and offers him a tight smile.

"That's it for bad news? Just cut back on the hours?"

He licks his lips and lightly shakes his head, "there's more."

"Oh," she replies, "okay."

"Your x-rays from last week came back and I'm afraid that this part is the bad news," he pauses for a moment as they lock eyes. She wonders if this is the kicker, where he really hits it home. Is this what he practiced while in med school? How to deliver bad news while maintaining eye contact? She is slightly impressed by his bedside manner while delivering it though. "After looking at your x-rays and having my colleague examine it as well, we've concluded that you probably won't be able to have children."

She swallows, "probably?"

"I can't tell you for sure because I've seen some absolutely crazy things happen throughout my profession, but I don't think that it will happen. There was some damage that we'd thought we had been able to fully repair after the accident but your body was already over working itself trying to heal everything else that it looks like it just didn't take. I'd like to send you to a specialist just to be sure."

"It's not necessary," she replies all too quickly.

"Misses Specter," he starts.

She lightly shakes her head, "please, you've seen my internal organs, call me Donna."

He smiles sadly, "Donna, this is a serious ordeal. If you want to know for sure whether you can have children or not, you might want to consider seeing a specialist."

"I'll think about it. I'll discuss it with my husband," she says sharply, "I'll let you know."

He offers her a slight nod before he pushes himself to his feet, "please set up an appointment to see me again in a week. I want to get you cleared to return full time but I'll need to see you weekly just to be sure."

"Fine."

* * *

Harvey's mid sentence when he stops talking and his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the sight of Donna making her way to his office. It isn't that he doesn't want to see her, it's that now isn't the right time. His mouth hangs agape for a few moments as his gaze shifts from Donna's bouncing frame to Scottie on the other side of his desk before sliding to Mike beside her.

Two is company.

Three's a crowd.

Four is a party, one that he really can't afford at the moment.

Mike tosses a glance over his shoulder to follow Harvey's previous gaze and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when his eyes land on Donna. Mike notes that the muscles in Harvey's face twitch like he's happy to see her but he's trying not to get too ahead of himself. He certainly doesn't miss Scottie's annoyed sigh from beside him; for a brief moment, Mike wonders if Scottie knows more than she's letting on.

"Donna," Harvey says in way of greeting as he jumps to his feet. His chair bounces behind him until it collides with the wall, projecting into a swift spin that nearly knocks Mike's boss off of his feet when it collides with the back of his thighs. "Is everything-"

He's cut off when she wraps her arms around his waist and he immediately encircles her. The features in Harvey's face soften and he angles his face towards the window where Mike can no longer gauge his facial expressions. Mike glances beside him, suddenly feeling like he's present for a very private moment and he shouldn't be, and takes in Scottie's features.

She looks sick to her stomach, like she's about to make a dash for the bathroom. Mike doesn't know whether he should feel particularly triumphant over the idea that Scottie's cool and calm exterior is being broken down bit by bit just off of the two in front of him. He wants to laugh at her but he's torn because he doesn't want to interrupt.

Mike can count on one hand just how many times he's seen the pair touch in the year that he's been acquianted with them. He's seen them almost every day and he wonders if this is how they once were years ago - if they comforted each other in ways that no one could understand, in ways that Rachel has comforted him. Mike wonders the depths of their relationship since her accident. He knows that there's something that's different between them and he has a feeling that he's about to watch it unfold before his very eyes.

Slowly, Mike drops his gaze to his lap, the feeling that his gaze is no longer warranted as curiosity suddenly overwhelming him. He doesn't know if he should get up and leave or if the representation meeting with Scottie will proceed shortly. Mike lingers in his seat, sliding the toe of his shoe across the carpet.

Scottie snarls. Her predatory look prompts Mike to feel protective of the two people who have had his back more than anyone else since his arrival at the firm. He sits up straighter in his seat to prove that he will not be intimidated by Dana Scott. It occurs to Mike that they've been sitting in an awkward silence for quite a long time and he decides that they could probably stand to give Harvey and Donna a few moments alone.

Mike angles his chin in Scottie's direction, "do you want to get a coffee?"

"I'll take it black. No cream, no sugar," she replies dismissively.

Mike huffs, "no, I wasn't taking your order."

Scottie slams her file shut and jumps to her feet, heels stomping hard against the floor with every step as he scrambles to follow her.


	5. Chapter 4

**This note from the author is all about how I really want to write them banging but I really just am not able to and I feel like this is the saddest moment of my entire life. Time to put together a sexual seduction playlist. No, but seriously, they're not banging as much as they were and there will be an impact because of it. I don't know. I really want them to bang but they're not banging.**

* * *

Dana Scott is not interested in the bullshit that is unfolding before her very eyes but she's having a very fucking difficult time looking away. _For once in her life_, she hears in Harvey's voice, she takes a hint and gives her former lover maybe one time boyfriend privacy with his rather astute secretary. That doesn't keep her from looking in on them through the glass walls with a steaming cup of coffee that she is very much not even partially interested in.

Now, Dana Scott watches their mouths move from probably what is considered to be too far away. She can't read lips but that doesn't keep her from trying. She doesn't really like to interject in other people's business but god damn it, this is her business. Harvey Specter is her business and, fuck, old habits are difficult to quit cold turkey.

She has to remind herself that Harvey isn't hers no matter how long she tried to hold her breath for him to come around. Truth be told, she's always known that Harvey belonged to someone else. She'd just hoped that he didn't stand a chance with Donna and would eventually give up, come knocking on her door and begging her to let him in. She had hoped but now she knows that there's absolutely no chance.

Whatever is happening in Harvey's office is bigger than anything that's ever passed between her and him, despite the many years of encounters between them. She wants to say that it was bigger than sex, that it _is_ bigger than sex, but she knows better. Harvey Specter is a man who cannot be made to do anything that he does not want to do, and the truth is that he is just in love with someone who is not her.

Scottie does not want to be the woman scorned because she supposed that she should have seen this coming, the day that Harvey and Donna look at one another and fully admit that they are in love because she's certain that they've both always forgotten anyone else existed. She never thought love would be the kind of thing that's rare but maybe it is, or maybe it just isn't something that she's built for. It isn't for lack of trying. She's tried to love someone other than Harvey before, almost married a man who would treat her right, but her damn feelings just got in the way.

She's been replaying that night a lot lately and she really doesn't like the way things were going down. Before the phone call she didn't stand a chance. But after the phone call, she was royally fucked. It hasn't even been two months since that night and Scottie can feel incessant ache still.

She goes home alone night after cleaning up Harvey's messes and cries because her whole world is different than she imagined it would be when he said he wanted her to stay in New York.

* * *

"Have you ever been here before?" Rachel asks as she looks up the side of the building.

She knows what a skyscraper looks like, she knows that the building where Harvey takes residence could be classified as one, but it all seems silly. She's walked by the building thousands of times over the years, admired it and even on a few occasions felt envious of the person with the condo in the sky that overlooked the city. She has no idea that was Harvey's. But then again, she doesn't really know Harvey all that well.

"Three times," Mike replies as he reaches for her hand, "only once on invitation though."

"You just show up at your boss' place without an invitation?" Rachel further probes.

Mike grins cheekily, "he has a soft spot for me."

"You're still alive. So, I'd say so," Rachel notes. She hesitates in thought as he drags her behind him and into the lobby. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he turns on his heel to look at her, toes nearly scuffing the pristine marble floor. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Do you think Harvey and Donna are together?" She sounds so small, like she's been hurt that her friend didn't tell her anything regarding the subject. She expects Mike to laugh at her right off of the bat but he doesn't. Instead, his lips purse in a silent admission. "Oh my god! You think they are."

"Just, something weird happened today at the office," Mike says slowly, dismissively, with a wave of his hand.

"Weird," Rachel repeats slowly, "what kind of weird?"

"She just came in silent and determined," Mike shrugs.

"That sounds so suspicious," Rachel mocks.

Mike huffs, "you didn't let me finish. She came in today, walks right into his office in the middle of our meeting and they just hug for a really long time. Next thing I know, I'm coercing Scottie out of Harvey's office."

"What kind of hug?"

Mike presses the button to the elevator in the lobby, "the kind of hug that makes rumors spark."

Rachel narrows her gaze for a few moments as the elevator doors slide open and she follows him inside. She drags a hand through her hair around her face as the doors slide shut before Mike's words really register with her. Rachel squints at Mike before she shakes her head in disbelief.

"You're kidding."

His eyebrows lift on his forehead, "this is a joke that would fall flat no matter how it's told."

"Okay," Rachel acknowledges with a deep breath, "how bad could it be?"

"It's going to be fine," Mike replies decidedly.

"You're right," Rachel says softly, "you're right. It can't be that much of an adjustment."

Mike looks at her like he doesn't believe her words, but he can't tell her so, "yeah. It's nothing. I'm sure."

They take the rest of the ride in the elevator to Harvey's floor in silence like they're both attempting to prepare themselves for whatever is about to happen. They both tell themselves that Harvey and Donna being together wouldn't be a bad thing - it wouldn't be their business anyway. What difference would it make to them?

But Rachel worries that them being together would be the ramifications of the accident in contrast to true feelings. She just wants her best friend to be taken care of, to be cared for genuinely rather than just because of the desperate fear of loss. Rachel doesn't know that she can trust this dinner, that she can trust anything that's going to be said. Most importantly, she wonders if the two would still be where they are without the accident. Rachel just remembers how distraught Harvey was and she isn't sure Donna could handle to see that herself.

They come to a stop in front of the door and they both try to steady themselves, releasing a breath in unison in the attempt, before Mike lifts his hand to the door. He knocks gently at first, the thud with the heavy wood seemingly hollow, before he knocks a bit harder. He releases Rachel's hand to anxiously swipe his brow. _Why are they both so nervous?_

Harvey opens the door with a look on his face that Rachel can't quite place. His mouth hangs open and the corners of his mouth curve upwards in a goofy grin, and Rachel would almost say that Harvey looks like a child. He looks care free, like he has no worries, and she can't remember a time she's ever seen him like this. He looks relaxed in his khaki pants and gray zip up pull over. She wonders if he's just happy, if that's something she's never been able to liken him to.

"Hey," Harvey greets, opening the door wider, "come in. Donna's-"

"Coming up behind you," Donna interjects. Rachel notes the way Donna's hand touches Harvey's hip before she steps around him. She wonders if she should read too much into it or if it's just the habits of two people who have functioned together for over a decade. "I'm so glad to see you."

Rachel is surprised when Donna pulls her into a hug and Harvey leads Mike down the hallway nearly bouncing on his toes like Mike's his best friend in the world. The whole situation is really weird and Rachel thinks something within everyone has changed. Clearly, life stopped without Donna because none of them are functioning like their normal selves anymore, none of them resemble normal human beings.

"I've missed you," Rachel says through a smile; it somehow managed to plant itself on her face at the sight of Donna.

"I have to tell you something. Don't be mad," Donna says quietly, closing the door behind them as she checks down the hallway to be sure that Harvey and Mike are out of earshot.

"Okay," Rachel says slowly.

Donna clears her throat and looks at her hands; Rachel's gaze follows but there's nothing abnormal about the timid movement other than there isn't anything timid about Donna. "We got married last week."

"You?" Rachel starts but swallows her tongue. "Got married?"

* * *

His hands are on or near her almost all night and that makes Donna squirm a little bit. She wonders if he's doing it for him or for her or for the benefit of Mike and Rachel, but she questions his motives. She shouldn't because Harvey has never been anything but honest and reliable when it comes to her, but she's known the man for a long time and knows so much about him when it comes to relationships.

However, the word _husband_ echoes in her brain like it's some kind of cold comfort for the heat that rises into her chest at every brush that his fingers make near the small of her back or the way he steadies her. His movements look odd, like they aren't natural on him, and she wonders if the difference is that she thinks he's just putting on a show for their audience. Harvey knows that Rachel will kill him if she has to and Mike, well, he follows the numbers like a smart boy.

She eyes Harvey carefully, like a warning that he just isn't getting, but she supposes that his eagerness and ability to diferentiate between the personal and the professional - the fact that he no longer overthinks or fails to commit - should be something that she finds admirable. Maybe even something that she should deem as massive growth. _Could this be the Harvey Specter he was always destined to be?_

"Is everything okay?" She asks him quietly.

He can barely hear her over the television, the sound of classic Star Trek reverberating off of the walls long after Mike and Rachel have left; he furrows his eyebrows and turns his head to look at her, "everything is great. Why would you think that anything would be less than okay?"

"You've been acting," she starts but she cuts herself off and her voice trails off, begging for him to fill in the blanks.

"Like?" He puts a little pressure on her.

She shrugs halfheartedly and seems to disappear into herself. He notes that this is something she's been doing a lot since he got home from work and he can't quite put his finger on it. He thought she'd be happier after her doctor's appointment. She said that everything went fine.

"You're just touching a lot. Even in front of Mike and Rachel, and that isn't something I would have expected from you."

"I don't think that this is the way that either of us expected," he reasons, "and I know that the circumstances weren't the best but it's the cards we were dealt. We have to play the cards that we have."

"Meaning?" She returns the pressure to him. He seems unphased by it.

"Meaning that we were inevitable and yeah, maybe the way that we happened was pretty horrible timing but you don't know how terrified I was that I was never going to get to be with you. I almost lost you and I hated that feeling, knowing that the one person who always has my back was almost gone - the only person I've ever really loved was almost gone."

Her eyes flood with tears that she tries to brush away without him noticing, but she isn't able to. His lips pout and he lifts a thumb to her cheek to brush the tears away, reaching in the space between them across the couch as he turns his body to face her. He angles his chin down, his mouth settling somewhere between sad at her tears and concerned for them.

"Don't cry," he says, half pleading, "please, I hate to see you cry."

"I don't mean to. You just make it sound like you've loved me for a long time," she admits.

He offers her a genuine smile, "I have but I always told myself _later, you'd be ready later_. And later was almost too late. I couldn't let that happen again. I'm not a whole person without you."

"Harvey," she starts, his name burrowing into her tongue. His name has a certain taste along the tastebuds that lingers. She thinks that love could have a taste. It could taste something like home, taste like him. She smiles lightly, fleetingly, "I don't understand you sometimes."

"Yes you do," he counters with a smirk, "you understand me completely. That's what makes it so hard for me to believe that you didn't know I loved you, that I do love you."

"Harvey," she repeats his name; she gathers her strength and lifts her gaze to his, "I just want you to know that every time I look at you, it feels like I'm home."

"I've been thinking," he says, fingers pressing into her thighs as they push up her legs and towards her hips. He pulls her towards him, her thighs resting high on his as his thumbs slip beneath the hem of her shirt. Her eyebrow quirks to indicate that she's listening. "I want this to be your home, too. Let's pack your things and move them in here, whatever you have to do to make it feel like your home."

"Are you sure you want me to move your things around and put mine in their place?"

His mouth twists at the thought, "lets not push it, hot stuff. We'll make room for the things you can't live without but the furniture stays. What's mine is yours."

"You know how the saying goes, right?"

"Which one?"

"Now that we're married, it's common knowledge that what's yours is mine and what's mine is mine," she informs him.

He smirks, "is that so?"

She feels his hands slide around to the small of her back and push beneath her, guiding her closer until his hips can touch hers. His fingers press into the back of her thighs like a challenge, like he's daring her to say something that she doesn't know she's supposed to say. She wonders if she's just paranoid, if it's the guilt of only telling him the good rather than the bad; the guilt weighs heavy on her, heavier than anything else.

She forces a sigh of content out of her mouth, a slight tilt of her head to really drive what she's trying to convey home, "will that make you happy?"

"I'm already happy," he says.

She lightly shakes her head, "will getting rid of my apartment make you happy?"

"I just thought it would be more convenient for all of your things to be where you are," he replies with a shrug.

The pressure builds in her stomach as his smirk widens (more so than she thought possible) and he closes the space between them to press his mouth to hers. His kiss is a momentary distraction from the feelings rising inside of her. She feels like there's no escape. She feels too much guilt, too secure when she's around him, that she can't tell him that giving up her only independence from him absolutely terrifies her. She can't tell him that she feels trapped, not when she hasn't even been there in 2 months - not when she would really give almost anything to have her entire wardrobe in the same place as her.

Her hands gather at his stomach, fingertips pressing right at where the zipper on his shirt starts. Harvey ignores her hesitation, ignores the way her grasp on his shirt is slow and weak like she doesn't want this. He wants to ask her if everything is okay, if there's something that she isn't telling him, but he knows her well enough to know that she will eventually tell him.

When he notes that her kiss is half-hearted like her mind is somewhere else, he steadies her with one hand as he pulls the other between them. He pulls back to look her in the eye, to see if she'll tell him whatever is causing her to hesitate. He lifts an eyebrow questioningly but she either ignores it or is losing her touch.

Her lips form a slight pout, one that would go unnoticed if he didn't know her so well, "why'd you stop?"

"You didn't seem like you were enjoying it," he supplies.

She rolls her eyes teasingly and her grasp on his shirt tightens. She pulls him closer until their lips touch again. He finds that her lips are parted already, that her tongue is sliding over his mouth, and he wonders if she's just trying to appease him but he doesn't actually question it. Her fingers tap against his torso on their trail to the muscles of his back.

Her teeth tug on his bottom lip and it prompts his eyebrow to jump upward on his forehead. He narrows his gaze at her, the slight surprise sliding over his features as her fingers wrap around his hips. He laughs a little, quietly and gently in the bellows of his throat. His fingers slide over her spine, his fingertips brushing over her vertebrae. Her bones feel so poignant beneath his touch and he absently wonders if it's something he should be concerned with.

She tugs on the hem of his shirt and it distracts him from all other thoughts. The way her fingers return to his skin within moments of pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it across the room makes him shiver. He wants to tell her that he loves her more than anything, that he's glad she feels the same way, but instead of saying anything he just lets the corners of his mouth tug upward for a brief moment.

He's happy, but part of him wonders if the woman before him who completes him is.


	6. Chapter 5

**_This was actually going to be longer but I couldn't make it happen. My stride was broken when I had to take a break to write some essays for school and this is where it stopped so I couldn't take it any further. I am very, VERY sorry for that because they were gonna bang and I was so excited about that._**

* * *

_She can feel the heat rising around her, the burning against her skin, and it makes her want to scream. Something isn't right. There's a pounding in her head. Her ears are ringing and all she can see is black. She feels like her lungs are filling with something - it's heavy, it's not oxygen._

She's suffocating. Fast.

She doesn't even remember what it's like to breathe in and out, the way oxygen turns into carbon dioxide inside of her before she sends it out of her body. She doesn't remember anything, really. Her stomach begins to churn and she feels the bile creep up the back of her throat. She throws her body from side to side, colliding with walls she can't quite escape.

She's on fire. **Just please,** she begs, **GOD, not her hair** - anything but that. Not now when she's had the best relationship with her hair in her entire life. **Not. Now.**

She hears echoes, incoherent words being called out to her. She can't make out faces or sounds because she can't see, can't hear through the ringing. She wants to get the fuck out of this hell hole. She's never felt more claustrophobic in her life. She just can't take it anymore.

The bile creeps up her esophagus again, but this time she can't fight it; it rises and rises and...

She shoots upright with a scream, a dull ache in her chest and a turn in her stomach. Harvey's fingers flex against her thigh as he slowly joins her, his other hand immediately coming up and pushing across her shoulders. He tries to speak but no words come out; the panic, however, is evident on his face, in the way that his hands shake against her skin.

Just as he clears his throat to try and find his words an urgency rises from deep inside of her. She throws the bedding back and drops her feet to the floor, doesn't even bother to let herself adjust to the cool night air. She takes off in a dash towards the bathroom and barely has the toilet seat slamming against the tank before she's vomiting into the basin.

Harvey's tongue tied. No, not tongue tied.

He's speechless.

His fingers white knuckle around the comforter while his eyebrows furrow in concern, in desperation, in contemplation. She can't place what his facial expression means, she just knows that she's only ever seen him with that look on his face three times. All three times have led to a startling revelation on her part that certainly has never ended well.

Something inside of him seems to snap and he quickly moves into action. His feet slam onto the floor and he hurries into the bathroom behind her. For a moment, Donna considers that she doesn't even know how her own husband reacts in these situations - if he has a weak stomach, if the sight of blood or vomit or anything makes him become queasy. There's so much that she doesn't know about a man that she can't even remember what having a life without him is like.

She sees him make a face out of the corner of her eye. She calls it a squint, in her mind, and chalks it up to the sudden light change when he crosses the threshold into the bathroom. He manages to multitask better than she can even manage in her half awake state and places a hand against her spin as he flushes the toilet for her. She had never pictured Harvey to be the type to hold back someone's hair while they were throwing up.

She manages an apologetic twitch of the lips before the bile rises again. The contents of her stomach disperses into the water and Harvey leans over her shoulder like he's trying to take a peek. He learns that was a horrible idea and it shows on his face through a grimace.

He bends his knees and pulls her hair back out of her face, his other hand steady between her shoulder blades. There's a sense of his presence that makes her feel hollow, like the blood isn't pumping through her veins the way that they should be. He expertly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before flushing the toilet again; she shifts her tear glazed eyes to look at him.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she tells him hoarsely.

"It's okay," he replies gently. He looks at her with a soft gaze that makes the tears fall from her eyes and he tilts his head, fingers returning to her hair and stroking it. He offers her a sympathetic smile as he sits on the floor, back pressing against the bathtub. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she admits. There's an uneasiness in her voice that makes Harvey's face contort in concern. He studies her like he has many times before - studies her like he's trying to memorize all of the secrets written all over her face. "I can't remember."

"Donna," he starts; her name from his lips is simple, pointed and baring.

"I really can't, Harvey. I couldn't breathe and I felt like I needed to scream. Next thing I know, I wake up to my own screaming."

He smiles weakly, "is everything okay?"

A tear slips down her cheek, "nothing is okay. I lied to you, Harvey."

The muscles in his shoulders tense and she feels like her skin is on fire beneath his touch. He's trying so hard to be calm and supportive but there's nothing he hates more than loyalty and trust that is broken. She doesn't even know that she can survive telling him because she knows what it will do to them. She only hopes that he can forgive her as quickly for this as he has forgiven her in the past.

"Okay," he says slowly. The breathe he releases is shaky and she pretends not to notice his fingers flexing against her muscles. "What is it?"

"The doctor told me some bad news," she starts. He abandons the look of hurt and his face immediately resembles worry. She isn't ready for this to be over, but she supposes it's better now than before it's too late. "He told me that I probably wouldn't be able to have kids."

"Oh, honey," he replies gently, fingers sliding down her spine and sliding to her hip to pull her towards him, "I have you and that's all I need."

"I didn't know how to tell you," she says, "you were just so happy and I just want you to be happy."

"You've spent a long time taking care of me, Donna. Let me take care of you now," he replies.

"I'm a mess."

He lightly shakes his head, "you're absolutely perfect and I'd kiss you right now if you hadn't just thrown up."

She laughs a little as he wipes at the tears leaving streaks on her cheek with his thumb.

* * *

"Are you sure I look okay?" She asks him one more time before they enter the restaurant.

He smiles and tilts his head, "you look great. Why are you so worried?"

"I just haven't seen them in a really long time," she reasons. Once they are inside, she sheds her coat and hands it to hostess in the entryway. His eyes trace her form, takes in the way that blue material hugs her hips, and he'd like nothing more than to take her home. She furrows her eyebrows and becomes painfully aware of his gaze. "What?"

"Nothing," he replies a bit too quickly, "you're just really hot. You know, it isn't too late. We can still ditch dinner and go home."

She laughs gently and shakes her head, "don't push it, Mister. You have a group of women to impress."

He stands awkwardly for a few moments like he's trying to gauge the importance of impressing a group of women he's heard very little about. He doesn't even know any of her friends outside of Rachel; in fact, he briefly wonders if he were to ask her who she would say that her best friend is. Is it that big of a deal to impress these women? How much do their opinions matter to Donna? He thought he was her best friend?

"I thought my opinion was the only one that mattered," he says with furrowed eyebrows.

She smirks, "that doesn't mean you don't have to impress them. Does that sound like something you can handle?"

"I can be very impressive when I want to be," he reminds her.

"Then be impressive," she replies with a shrug. He smiles and lightly shakes his head, reaching out and pressing his fingertips against her back. His fingers press into her spine just above the line of her dress, the material soft and cold against his fingertips, before he slides them down to the small of her back. She shivers beneath his touch, "just be your normal charming self without the intent on taking one of them home and you'll do great."

"I already know who I plan on taking home," he retorts with a wink.

"Easy tiger."

"What?" Harvey feigns innocence, "you're hot. I have a hot wife."

"Stop," she warns as her lips tug upward in the corners.

He laughs gently but the material beneath his fingertips is thin in a manner which distracts him until she steps forward to meet her friends. He follows her lead towards the table, silently counting the number of blondes and brunettes and women with black hair sitting around a circular table as they approach. He counts 5 and in his opinion it's 5 too many.

"Sorry we're late," Donna announces to the table.

"It's okay," one of the women, Harvey can't tell which, practically shouts, "just don't make it a habit."

"It's becoming a bad habit," Donna admits.

Harvey's fingers reluctantly leave her frame to pull the chair out for her, and once she's seated he sits in the only empty seat beside her. He's decided to go the safer route of keeping his mouth shut because meeting the friends has never been his favorite step in a relationship. The problem for him is that he can't avoid that step - he's too in love with her to tell her no.

"You must be Harvey," a blonde haired woman says out of nowhere before his back can even touch the chair.

He looks up from the floor where he's being overly focused that he isn't stepping on anyone's toes to see that her chin is resting in her hand and her eyes are trained on him. He tilts his head slightly before shooting an uncertain gaze to Donna (who seems to have her face trained in a way that resembles absolutely no acknowledgment of what is unfolding). He figures out that he has to say something before he gets 4 additional pairs of eyes to scrutinize him also.

He nods, "Harvey Specter."

"Oh, we've heard so much about you," another woman sings under her breath.

He furrows his eyebrows in response and looks at Donna with a slight grin, "oh really? All good things, I'm sure."

"Like they're going to tell you," Donna finally says.

"So is this one of those third degree dinners?" He questions.

"Probably," Donna replies with a shrug.

His mouth settles into a thin line to make his lack of amusement quite clear but when she smiles cheekily he can't help the one that sneaks onto his face. He finds it to be a diservice that he's on display in front of all these women and he doesn't even know any of their names. His knee shakes, threatens to go into a bouncing frenzy until he feels Donna's palm slide over his thigh to settle there. He hadn't even realized that his body was angled towards hers so prominantly, but he's coming to the conclusion that they are rather close and his knee is lightly brushing against her thigh. He settles his arm on the back her chair, his fingers finding a place against her shoulder.

He swallows, "even your parents didn't do that."

"That's because they like to keep the peace," Donna concludes.

"We like chaos," another woman interjects.

Harvey really wishes they had introduced themselves because he's beginning to get them confused, who said what and which face belongs to which voice. He's usually really good with faces and names but his palms are sweating and his knee would be bouncing if it weren't for her hand keeping it steady. He leans a little more into her and listens carefully to the breath expelling from between her slightly parted lips.

He furrows his eyebrows and turns his head to the sound of the voice, "I didn't get your name."

His fingers slip beneath the strap of her blue dress and it makes him think that this group of women could possibly think he's just her boss. For a moment that saddens him - the idea that no one else in the world but them knows that whatever between them is so much more than meets the eye. Her fingers tighten as they get closer to his knee.

"Do you want us to go around the table?"

Harvey stares at Donna incredulously, silently asking her to tell him how to answer the question. Her fingers brush over his inner thigh and it nearly makes him jump in his seat. He furrows his eyebrows and lightly shakes his head before he glances around the table.

"It's my fault," Donna says, "I should have introduced you. I just assumed that they all know you so you should know them."

"Donna," he says, gently and carefully like he's pleading with her; he really hopes his voice didn't do that crack thing where her name sounds like a whine. His mouth slides into a grin. "Have you been talking about me?"

"Oh, she's told us great things. For a long time it used to be _Harvey this_ and _Harvey that_," says the one woman that Harvey recognizes. She stands out from this group of women in a different way than Donna does. She has black hair and dresses slightly like a hipster. He slowly places her from the _god awful dinner party_ as Donna's friend Lauren who is a well-known underground artist in town - at least, that's what he's heard. "But she never told us how handsome you are."

"I've met you before," he says with a brief point of the finger, "at Donna's a few years ago."

"It was a long time ago," she confirms, "and beforehand she kept saying _my boss is going to be here and everything has to be perfect, Lauren, don't mess this up_."

"I had a great time at that party."

"It was a disaster," Donna interjects.

"Wait," the blonde on the other side of Donna says suddenly, "this is the boss? _The_ boss? You never told us how cute he is."

He's already pegged all of these women without knowing their names and he isn't even sure he wants to try anymore. Everything about this dinner makes him want to run and he would, too, if it weren't for the fact that he's doing this for Donna. This is going to be so fun that he'll be lucky if he doesn't bang his head against the wall.

* * *

She laughs against his throat and he comes to the conclusion that he'd almost forgotten what it sounds like. Her lips are warm in the cold December air and he pushes his fingers into her hips to pull her closer. There's a warm breeze when the door to the restaurant opens and another patron leaves, but other than that there is fresh traces of snow littering the ground at their feet. Her tall heels make her so much taller, make her chin at the same level as his, and he's baffled by the way she can balance on them even in the snow.

He likes the sound of her laughter, the way it vibrates on his skin, but he can't figure out if it comes easier because she's a little drunk or because she's happy. He knows she's had it rough lately, that she's gone stir crazy sitting alone in the apartment with her own head and dealing with a doubt that settles in his absence. He wishes that he could just tell her how he feels and that be it, that she wouldn't worry anymore.

His fingers slide to hers and he pulls her towards him, a sigh passing through his lips as her other hand finds the back of his neck. They've made it three blocks from the restaurant and her warmth against his skin creates a friction in his veins that makes his heart beat speed up a little. The slush of on the sidewalk gathers at his feet, the sound of cars rushing by tuning out the chatter of other passerby's in the distance.

He hadn't counted her alcohol intake but he's pretty sure she's had more than enough. She hasn't had any since her accident and he thought he'd let her have a pass, especially in front of her friends. The incessant female chatter only became louder and louder as time passed and empty glasses scattered the table, but Donna's hands had wandered a little bit closer to his crotch with every drink and he couldn't focus on anything other than trying to occupy them.

Her lips slide against his jaw, teeth nipping at his neck just below there, and he can't help the way his fingers slip beneath the opening in her coat. She laughs against the corner of his mouth but the laughter promptly stops when he presses his lips to hers. Her lips part beneath his and her tongue darts out to slide across his bottom lip. Everything happens at once, the way her tongue rolls against his and she tastes distinctly like scotch. He wonders when his drink of choice became her drink of choice.

Her lipstick clings to his mouth and he suddenly realizes that this is really the first time she's dressed up since they've been together. As much as he loves seeing her in jeans and a shirt, in his t-shirt, in a piece of his clothing, in a nothing, he loves seeing her in her fashionista attire - all dressed up and stealing the eyes of the room. In his opinion, she always demands the attention of everyone in the room but with her dresses or skirts that come just above the knee, her heels that echo on the floor, hair red hair teased into perfection and the light layer of make up on her face he thinks it's absolutely undeniable.

Her fingernails dig into the back of his neck as she pulls him closer, shifts all of her weight in his direction like she needs him to stand upright. He feels drunk even though he didn't drink as much as she did, but it could be a contact high - it could just be happiness. Her teeth tug on his bottom lip for a brief moment before they part and her warm breath slides up his jaw.

"Harvey, hail a cab and take me home," she purrs into his ear.

"Okay," he nods.

He moves around her to hail a cab but her fingers only clasp to his tighter. He's momentarily distracted by the hold she has on him, her hand so tightly and perfectly placed within his that he thinks she needs him, and he glances at their hands in the space between them. He thinks it feels different when they're out in public where everyone can see, thinks that there's a certain satisfaction he feels like he can show that he belongs to someone - Donna, _that he belongs to Donna_. He supposes that the prospect of forever has always been different when it's in the terms where she's concerned.

She tugs on his hand as a cab pulls up and he's unprepared when her other hand slips beneath his jacket. His eyebrow shoots up. His gaze meets hers and he thinks about saying something; he can't decide what. In his head it sounds like a mix between something extremely corny and something sickeningly sweet. Instead, he manages to open the cab door and pull her in with him.

She closes the door behind her and the thud reverberates through her bones. He hums unintentionally once he's muttered the address of the condo. It must be the alcohol because she finds it cute and presses her fingers against his cheek to encourage him to look at her. He smiles adoringly at her. Her smile presses against his, lips curled upward and meeting at the corners.

She laughs against his lips and it makes his tingle from the vibrations. He doesn't even know what she's laughing at anymore. If she's said something then her words haven't yet registered for him. Her fingers curl into his ribs like she's desperate to be near him, like he isn't quite close enough.

He encourages her advancements by divulging his fingers into her hair, her mouth sweet from the chocolate cake she ate and bitter from the scotch she drank. He thinks the way she tastes is a reflection of her - sickeningly sweet, a kick that will leave him reeling. She sighs against the corner of his mouth, slides against him as she fits her hand against his thigh. The sounds echoing between them are all heavy breathing and sighs and moans. His hand slips between her thighs, fingers grasping for her flesh; she stutters against his mouth, her breath hitching in the depths of her throat.

Harvey Specter is not the kind of man who makes out with women in cabs. He doesn't like to make a show, doesn't like when someone can connect less than behavior with his face or his name, but there's something about this woman that just drives him crazy in a way that he can't help himself. His fingers slide against her thigh, her muscles flexing beneath his fingertips, her mouth fused to his, her nails digging into the space between his hip and his ribs. Donna is fearless and she navigates him with ease in a manner that makes him feel okay to let her.

The laughter completely evades her but, although he misses the sound, he likes what she's doing with her mouth much more. Her tongue slides over his bottom lip; just when he's about to deepen the kiss and push his hand further between her thighs, it occurs to him that he should probably be more aware of his surroundings. Her fingers maneuver to his stomach, press just above his waistline. His dick throbs in the constriction of his pants and he can't help the muffled groan that slips out between his lips.

"We're almost home," he manages.

Her legs shift and he can feel the heat between them. "Good."

"Head inside, I'll pay."

"Hurry," she moans gently into his ear. It sounds like a whisper but echoes like a scream and he doesn't know if he's going to make it all the way inside. Her fingers slip over his lap, unintentionally brushing over his erection, and he's forced to swallow a gulp. "I'm ready to go to bed."

He can barely get her thoughts straight as he reaches around her for the door handle. He pushes it open for her and watches her head inside, her coat swallowing her and making her look unbelievably small. He pays the cab driver with an apologetic smile.

"Girlfriend?" The driver asks.

He almost misses the question as he's counting his money. His thoughts are jumbled and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. He lifts his gaze to the driver. "Wife, actually," he corrects.

He gives up and throws the wad of cash at the driver with an empty apology. Harvey jumps out of the vehicle and slams the door behind him before taking off in a slight jog to catch up to her. He touches her gently, careful not to cause her to lose her balance. Donna's fingers blindly find his and it feels like a comfort, like he's coming home where he belongs, but the irony of it is that he's actually lived there for quite some time.

Her heels click against the tile of the lobby and echoes off of the walls, but it's the sound of her breathing that has his attention. He watches her fingers touch the elevator call button only to turn to face him. It baffles him how she looks so wistful, so natural with the cold December air nipping at her exposed flesh with the touch of color biting her cheeks.

"You look," he starts but he can't really find the words. Instead, he pushes his hand against her jaw, fingers sliding along the bone.

She leans her face into his hand and smiles gently, "drunk?"

"I was going to say stunning."

"But then again," she mutters, hips closing the space between them until hers touches his, "you're drunk too."

"I'm not _that_ drunk," he corrects.

The elevator dings and she steps backward, leading him in her direction. He willingly follows, her fingers wrapping around the lapels of his jacket. He thinks that maybe she's had a rough week and she's just trying to work out the tension, but he's never been very good at letting her not talk to him. It makes him feel lost, broken, like something is missing and the puzzle needs to be completed. He had never really noticed how dependent he was on her.


	7. Chapter 6

**_This is a small update but hopefully enjoyable. I am working on a few fics right now while doing a bunch of school stuff. These are a few fun parts and hopefully make you laugh just a little. Please leave a review because I'm really procrastinating on schoolwork just to give you guys fics._**

* * *

It comes in waves.

It's open mouth kisses and a burning passion that ignites between them like a log that's been soaking in gasoline for over a decade. Everything feels familiar yet different at the same time. It's the way she touches him like she needs him, like she can't live without him. It's the way his hands shake against her thighs as he presses his fingers against them. It's everything that they'd never had but had always wanted, their skin pressing together and alighted with renewed vigor.

It's the way her breath hugs his skin, how he kisses her like he's never thought about kissing anyone else. It's the moments that they become so connected that neither of them can figure out where one ends and the other begins. It's everything he never new he'd always wanted and everything she'd pretended didn't exist. It's the way her name falls off of his lips and how he pleads for her with just one look. It's how he doesn't remember anything or anyone but her when his face is buried into her shoulder and he's so deep inside of her that she completely surrounds him.

It's the only thing that makes sense and it's the way that nothing else matters. He'd never known these feelings could all exist at once. He knows now that he's felt it all along, knows now that it's called love.

* * *

_**2005**_

Jessica Pearson sits across a table from Donna Paulsen. It's a damn shame that she knows next to nothing about her right hand's most prized possession, and she does think that with fervor. She thinks that after 4 years she should know a little more about the rather mysterious woman who has been sitting outside of her protege's office, she should know more than just her name and the color of her hair. She doesn't know much, but she wants to know more.

She thinks that Donna Paulsen is an absolutely stunning woman, but that's more of an obvious fact not worth pointing out. But Jessica Pearson also thinks that Donna just might be a bigger asset to the firm than she can even begin to understand. From what she can tell, this woman has done some great things to benefit the firm and Harvey's career. She should probably thank her for not letting the money she spent on Harvey's studies at Harvard go to waste.

She's lost track of the direction of the conversation but the laughter has been the best laughter she's had in a long time. She really feels like Donna is not only a good fit in her life and at her firm, but that she deserves more than an expensive bottle of wine and a $95 bowl of pasta. She doesn't think that she has anything special to offer her and it's most likely not even all that interesting conversation.

"Wait a second," Jessica interjects with furrowed eyebrows, "you were married?"

"It was brief. Didn't last very long," Donna replies around her glass of wine with a wave of the hand, "it wasn't even in the United States."

"I was married as well," Jessice confides, "didn't stick."

There's a long swig of her white wine and it makes Donna's narrow her gaze at her boss's boss. Donna smiles gently, the corners of her mouth mischevious like she has something up her sleeve. Jessica's spent a lot of time reading people and she knows what that look implies. Jessica laughs off the look.

"Marriage isn't for everyone," Donna finally replies.

There's a hint of sadness to her voice and Jessica can't help herself, "why didn't you stay married?"

"It was Spring Break and I was drunk," Donna replies half-heartedly with a shrug, "plus, he was a dick. You?"

"Oh," Jessica acknowledges with a smirk, "I'm a lesbian."

Donna chokes on her drink, the last response she'd expected, and starts coughing. Jessica thought that maybe she'd been more obvious, that someone would have picked up on it, but shockingly even someone as perceptive as Donna Paulsen hadn't been able to tell. She hadn't necessarily wanted it to be common knowledge but she thought the best thing she could do to show Donna her value would be to tell her something that no one else knows.

Donna eventually recovers, "I never would have known."

"Donna, I'm telling you this to show you that your value at the firm extends beyond Harvey. You're important and I want you to know that," Jessica says.

"Jessica, I," Donna hesitates because she doesn't know what to say, "I think that you're a wonderful lawyer and absolutely elegant. Just you inviting me to dinner was more than enough to show me that you value me. But, I don't think that Harvey would like it if this became a frequent event."

"He means a lot to you," Jessica notes.

Donna swallows, "very much so."

"When he told me that you were special I thought he was just saying it to get his way but now I realize that he was saying it because he meant it."

"Jessica," Donna says sincerely, "thank you."

"No," Jessica replies evenly, "thank you."

* * *

"Jessica," Harvey says in way of greeting into her office. His voice is soft, humble, like he's coming to her about a problem that he needs help fixing. Her attention immediately settles on him, his voice alone more than enough to know that this is something important to him. "Do you have a minute?"

"Oh this must be good," she practically sings as she leans back in her chair, "for this, I have several minutes."

"It won't take long," he replies. He secures the door behind him and advances further into the room. He loosens the button on his gray jacket before sitting in the chair, her gesture to it unnecessary but present anyhow. He releases a heavy hearted sigh and lifts a soft gaze to her; "I just thought that you should hear it from me before Donna comes back."

In the lull of silence where he pauses to collect his nerves he hears her mutter, _oh god_.

"We got married a few weeks ago. I know what you're going to say, inner office romance is against policy and you thought that we were better than that-"

"Harvey," she cuts him off with the lift of her palm, "the thing standing between the two of you has never been the often ignored company _no dating_ policy. It's always been about the two of you and to be quite frank, I don't know what made you decide to marry her when you've both been too scared to even go out on one date. I swear to god, Harvey, if you're taking advantage of her-"

"Jessica," Harvey interjects forcefully, "I wouldn't do that. I love Donna. I've always loved Donna."

"You're such a damn idiot," Jessica mutters in annoyance.

* * *

Even Donna's fantastic wardrobe couldn't prepare her for the mess she was walking into. Everyone at the office, Harvey most of all, had been preoccupied with so many other things that they didn't keep a stern eye on any kind of order and all of her organization had been lost. It was going to take days, weeks even, to get everything _just right_ but something to do with her hands, with her brain, will be better than the nothing she's had. She thinks that may have been the biggest difficulty while waiting around for the go ahead from her doctor to return to work.

Harvey's eyes have been trained on her for the better part of an hour but the message they are sending is something totally different than she would have thought this morning before he left. He's watching her every move, noting every curve, and she can tell that they aren't on her out of concern. He can't stop looking at her and it only encourages the smirk on her face furthermore. His leg bounces up and down, gaze narrowed on her and slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She's moments away from tossing him a suggestive look when there's a thud on her cubicle.

"Hey, Donna," Louis greets excitedly. His teeth are showing and they look larger than a rabbit's.

"Jesus Christ," Donna eclaims a little too loudly as she nearly jumps out of her skin, "Louis, you scared me."

"It's great to see you, Donna. I missed seeing you," he admits. There's a silence that hovers for a few moments to long and she takes her opportunity to glance at Harvey. His weight is on the balls of his feet like he's prepared to jump to them - _her hero_. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, Louis, thank you for asking," she replies. Her smile is pleasant until she watches his chest puff out. Her gaze shifts to his movement and her eyebrows furrow in response. She doesn't miss Harvey shuffling in his office on the other side of the glass. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great!" His voice is much louder than necessary, "I got you something."

"Louis, you didn't have to," she replies. She knows what kind of gift it is because it's the same that it always is. It's become a tradition of sorts to give each other tickets to the theatre. "I'm fine, really."

"I wanted to," he insists and extends an envelope to her, "two tickets."

"Thank you," she says with a smile.

Harvey leans heavily against the glass of his doorway, shoulder pressed hard against it with his hands buried deep in his pockets, "did you need something, Louis?"

"I was just hoping Donna would allow me to join her at the show," Louis admits with a pair of shifty eyes.

"She has a date," Harvey replies calmly.

Donna glares at him for a brief moment before she notes that he didn't mean anything malicious by it, he was just trying to let her know that if that's what he wants to do then he'd like to join her. His smile betrays him to a point that even Louis is confused. The silence falls upon them as she shifts her gaze back to Louis, Harvey's eyes still focused in on her.

"I appreciate the offer, Louis, but I'd really like it Harvey were to accompany me," she says, smile apologetic, "maybe next time though?"

"Sure," Louis replies, smile far too wide for it to be real.

She knows that she needs to spend some time with Louis to make him know that they are still friends, but it's detrimental to her heart that she spend all the time with Harvey she can.

* * *

Harvey has never lived with another person. In fact, the idea of a roommate has always left him on edge. He hasn't lived with anyone else since college, since he had that roommate who stayed up all night and slept all day, not to mention drove him absolutely crazy with his incessant mess everywhere. The closest he's gotten to roommate are the days that Scottie would visit for days too long like they were playing house.

Living with Donna is no exception. She drives him absolutely crazy. She leaves her shoes everywhere, her jacket on the back of the couch, her dirty clothes on the floor in the bathroom and, worse than everything else, he finds so much of her hair in the drain that he thinks she might be going bald. He looks at her hair a little longer than normal to make sure she still has plenty of hair on her head and he's usually left wondering if this is just something that happens to all women. He hasn't yet asked her but over the course of two months he's had to unclog the drain at least ten times.

So, this time when he finds her hair in the drain, because he can almost swear that he unclogged it _just_ two days ago, he screams at her from the bathroom. His screech echoes off of the walls and bounces off of the glass in the hollow bathroom with the larger than life, nine foot ceiling. He grumbles under his breath as the hot water scalds his skin and he wants nothing more than to super glue her hair back to her scalp.

"Why are you yelling at me?" She calls from the doorway.

He steps out from beneath the water and pokes his head out of the door, "are you balding?"

"What the fuck, Harvey?" She snaps at him.

His eyes narrow at her, annoyance settling in his wet eyebrows as he notes her clad in only her bra and panties, "I have to unclog the drain every two days and all I find is red hair."

"I don't have time for your shit," she says with a sigh before she turns on her heel and exits from his view.

Living with her will absolutely make him pull his hair out and she won't be the only one balding. He grunts in annoyance and shuts the show door as he returns to the water. He washes the conditioner and soap off of him before he turns the shower off. He reaches for his towel and dries off before he wraps it around his waist and goes into the bedroom.

He catches sight of her perusing through the closet like she can't decide what she wants to wear. He huffs, "you're really pissing me off today."

"The feeling's mutual," she counters.

"Me?" He scoffs, "I'm tripping over your shoes, cleaning your hair out of the drain, listening to you bitch about how you can't find anything to wear. I'm an angel."

"You're wrong about that," she refutes with hollow laughter, "you don't have any room for me in this apartment. The closet is barely large enough to fit your clothes while I don't have a choice but to leave mine scattered throughout the bedroom. You hate that my shoes are everywhere but won't make any room for me to put them anywhere. And I hope you realize this isn't even half of my clothes."

"Move some of my stuff," he replies with equal force.

She shakes her head, annoyance settling into her voice, "because you'd be okay with that. You don't like it when I leave a magazine on the coffee table but you think I'm going to move some of your stuff so I can move some of mine in?"

"How are we ever going to live together if you don't?"

"Maybe we won't. Maybe we'll be the kind of couple who doesn't live together," she counters.

His eyes shut and he shakes his head. Peeling his eyes open, he comes to the conclusion that he has to give or this will become a rather ridiculous argument that ruins their day. He audibly sighs, prompting her to look at him over her shoulder with her tongue in cheek.

"Donna," he says gently, "if we don't live together then we won't be a couple, and that isn't what I'm wanting at all."

He watches the tension in her shoulders drop, relenting as she turns to face him completely, "I know."

"I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to give up seeing this every morning," he admits as he reaches out to touch her hip.

"I don't know," she says indecisively, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her fingers find the edge of his towel and she gives it a tug, letting the material drop to the floor. He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and she nods in satisfaction. "Now, that's better."


End file.
